ONE
Rick Benetti had been f**ked, and not in the fun way. No potential to shoot the bad guys, no uncovering a drug smuggling ring or going after gunrunners—he’d gotten the babysitting job instead. God forbid he should get a kick-ass assignment like the other Wild Riders.
One would think working undercover for the government would give him a hot job like the other guys. Like Mac had done when he’d had to carry around a live virus from Chicago to Dallas to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Or when Diaz and Jessie had gone undercover to join a bike gang that was selling guns to survivalists. Or Spence, who’d had a prime job working with Agent Shadoe Grayson in a strip club in New Or-leans in order to bring in a rogue federal agent who was working with the Colombians to smuggle drugs.
Now those were the juicy cases.
Him? He had to go find and babysit some Nevada senator’s daughter who thought it might be fun to join a biker gang.
Like that was a national security threat?
Fuck. More likely some bored college student thumbing her nose at Daddy’s authority by joining up with the Hellraisers biker gang. Though Rick had to admit, the Hellraisers weren’t exactly the soft and cuddly type of bikers. He should know—he used to be one of them.
And the last thing he wanted to do after being out of the club for ten years was get back in it. Which was what General Grange Lee, head of the Wild Riders, told him he’d have to do.
His criminal past behind him, Rick had lived a clean life for the past ten years. Not by choice, initially. At seventeen he’d been bad and about to get worse. Until one bust and the chance of a lifetime had changed his life. General Grange Lee had come into his life and offered him the opportunity to go to work for the United States government. Facing the alternative of prison, Rick had taken General Lee up on his offer.
Now he was heading back into his old life again, insinuating himself into the gang that had caused him so much trouble. And the leader of that gang in Las Vegas? His cousin Bo.
Yeah, that made sense. Bo had always been a badass. Kind of like himself—a badass with delusions of grandeur. General Lee had kicked that out of Rick. Made him a team player. Bo, though, that was another matter. Bo hadn’t had the benefit of General Lee’s firm but fair guidance.
Maybe the Hellraisers had cleaned up their act in the ten years Rick had been out of the picture. But from the intelligence he’d gotten from General Lee at Wild Riders headquarters, it didn’t look that way. Which was why he’d been given this assignment. First, because he used to be part of this gang and he could get in easier. Second, because Ava Vargas’s involvement with the Hellraisers could be a potential embarrassment for Senator Hector Vargas, not to mention a national security risk, especially since Senator Vargas was currently working on significant national antidrug legislation.
Rick supposed having one’s daughter involved in a suspected drug-running biker gang would be a PR nightmare for a senator about to write a major antidrug law.
Still, Rick would rather be going undercover anywhere else but back with his old gang, even if he did see the logic of why he’d been given this particular assignment.
Didn’t mean he had to like it.
He’d fired up his Harley and ridden from Dallas to Las Vegas. Bike week in Vegas was about to roll out, so the Hellraisers should be on the Strip. Now he just had to find them and get himself back in the old gang again.
Rick rode the Strip, ignoring the colorful, neon flashing lights of all the casinos, his focus on the bikes and riders that had poured into town for the big blast that would last a week.
Some were single riders, or a group of friends. Others were part of clubs, their jackets and vests labeled with their gang names. It didn’t take long for Rick to find the Hellraisers. They were a large group and their leather vests bore the flame insignias and their club name across the back. He goosed the throttle and increased his speed to catch up, riding past the gang until he spotted his cousin at the lead, then turned his bike around. Bo had pulled up at a local hangout for bikers—a bar. Rick rode in and parked next to Bo.
Bo gave him a cursory glance of contempt, a “don’t f**k with me” kind of attitude. Rick smirked, realizing Bo hadn’t even looked at him, just given him a quick once-over and labeled him an outsider.
“Still an ass**le as always, aren’t you, Bo?” Rick said as he got off his Harley.
Bo’s head shot up, then recognition dawned. His face split in a wide grin. “Rick? Son of a bitch. It is you.” He grabbed Rick in a bear hug. “How long has it been?”
Rick hugged him back, then separated. “Ten years, man.”
They headed inside the bar and ordered two beers. Rick noticed only some of the Hellraisers had come in with Bo. The others stayed outside. Watchers, no doubt, keeping an eye out for rival gangs the Hellraisers might have a beef with. The last thing the Hellraisers would want is to be cornered inside the bar. The ones outside would give a heads-up if Bo and others needed to make a quick exit.
Bo took a long pull from his bottle of beer, then settled his gaze on Rick. “Last time I saw you, you were getting arrested.”
Rick laughed. “Same for you, since we were getting arrested at the same time for the same thing.”
Bo shrugged. “I did six months and got three years’ probation on that one. But never saw you again. What the hell happened?”
“You know as well as I do that wasn’t my first arrest like it was yours.”
Bo grinned. “I was sneakier than you. And a faster runner.”
“So you say. I think you threw me under the bus.”
Bo laughed. “So, you did time?”
“They sent me down for three years.”
Bo winced. “Ouch. That’s rough.”
“Yeah. After that I took to the road. Prison was damned confining. I needed some space.”
“So where’ve you been?”
“Chicago, mainly. But mostly I just ride all over. Settling in one place too long usually means problems for me.”
“Why are you back?”
“Figured I’d been gone long enough. I wanted to come home for a while.”
“Missing family?”
Rick snorted and took a drink of beer. “I think we both know better than that. We don’t have family. Except each other.”
Bo tipped the top of his beer to Rick’s. “Amen to that. Useless f**king families is what we had. But we did have each other. Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t know about you doing time. You know how it is.”